


Two Time Lords Walk Into a Bar

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alcohol, Babyfic, Daleks - Freeform, Doctor/Master - Freeform, F/M, Pregnancy, Time Babies, UNIT, cast of literally several, space, twissy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5047054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Missy accidentally start a family. What happens afterwards proves that this was quite a serious mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The best pub on Pluto was the Red Lion on the Sputnik Planum, which could boast seating for two hundred and a unique item on the menu for each of them. Its award-winning décor had mild mind-altering properties to aid an atmosphere of relaxed fun. It had often been said that there was no better place to while away unproductive hours on the still-bitter-about-its-classification dwarf planet.

The Doctor was not in the best pub on Pluto. Nor was he in the second or third best. He was sitting at the bar in a small establishment with inferior complimentary nuts and a typo on the sign above the door. He had selected it after some consideration as the place least likely to attract unwanted attention for a lone traveller with little of the local currency. Nobody would think to come looking for him here.

So he was not especially surprised when Missy sat down next to him at the bar.

“Hi,” she said, and he ignored her. 

“I know you're glad to see me, don't pretend otherwise because I'll know you're lying.”

The Doctor turned his attention to the television behind the bar. 

“Hello, Sweetie,” she said, and he flinched automatically before turning to look at her, resigned to the inevitable conflict.

“Go away,” he said without much optimism.

“Do you want to hear a joke?” she asked.

“No.”

“Two Time Lords walk into a bar and... well, it's a very long story and I forget the punchline, but almost everyone is dead by the end of it.”

“Don't,” he said, placing a cautioning hand on hers.

Missy looked down at their touching hands with a smile. “Just trying to lighten the mood,” she said. “I'll have a lemonade, thanks,” she added.

“I didn't offer to buy you a drink.” He tried to move his hand away from hers and she caught his wrist with her other hand.

“I know, I know, you're too shy to make a move,” she said, applying just enough pressure to cause pain. 

He weighed up the available options and relented. He held his glass up to summon the barman. “I'll have another,” he said, “and a lemonade for...” he glanced at Missy and tried to decide what to call her. She smiled at him and he spitefully chose “the old witch.”

Her smiled didn't fade at the insult, she just tightened her grip on his wrist until he winced. She let go again when their drinks arrived. “Is that alcohol?” she asked pleasantly. She made a show of sniffing the air around him. “Are you trying to drown your sorrows?”

“I'm just having a drink, it doesn't signify anything.”

“Where's little Clara Oswald?” she asked.

He looked at Missy long enough to scowl at her.

“Oh, did she leave you? Is she dead? Are you all on your lonesome?” She lifted her glass of lemonade. “I never liked her, she reminded me of Jo Grant.” She patted the Doctor's leg just above the knee. “Don't worry, I'll take care of you.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked, changing the subject with no attempt at subtlety.

“I'm here to get you drunk and take advantage, silly.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I have a plan. An evil plan.” She moved back and added, at a more normal volume, “This is stage one.”

“I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else,” said the Doctor.

“Who said I was going to hurt anyone?” She drank from her glass. “It's not that sort of plan.”

“What sort of plan is it?”

“I'm not going to _tell_ you, that would ruin the surprise.”

“I'll stop you anyway,” he said, unconcerned. “You never win.”

“It's not the winning that counts, it's the wanton destruction while taking part.” She finished her drink and pushed the empty glass towards the Doctor. “I'll have another, thanks.”

“Get it yourself.”

Missy scowled. “Oh, stop sulking and start enjoying yourself. You're no fun when you're like this.”

“I'm not here to entertain you.”

“You just keep telling yourself that.” 

With a long-suffering sigh the Doctor signalled for the barman and ordered another set of drinks. 

 

When the pub finally closed and the landlord threw them out, they walked through dark meandering streets towards where the Doctor had left the TARDIS. The night was cold and the stars were bright above the artificial atmosphere. Missy gazed up at the constellations as they walked, while the Doctor looked resolutely down in case he noticed the one that was always missing. He glanced towards her and decided that he might as well ask, again.

“Where's Gallifrey?”

She looked at him and shook her head. “That's for me to know and you to lose sleep over.” She took his hand. “A girl has to have some secrets, you know, otherwise you might get tired of me.”

The Doctor sighed and admitted temporary defeat. He laced his fingers between hers and kept walking. “I loved that old place,” he said, more to himself than to Missy.

“You hated that old place,” she corrected.

“Love and hate are very similar emotions,” he said, “I can't always tell the difference between them.”

“At least you're aware of that fact,” said Missy. She gave a contented little sigh. “I wonder what Martha Jones would say if she could see us now. Should we call her and invite her to the wedding?”

The Doctor belatedly realised that the physical contact was probably giving her ideas. He wasn't sure why he'd acquiesced to holding her hand in the first place, and was even less certain about his unwillingness to let go. He reasoned with himself that it was probably just that he missed the company of his own species.

“You're quite good company when you're not trying to take over the universe,” he said, ignoring the question.

“How do you know I'm not plotting another conquest right now?”

He shrugged. “You might be, but I don't think you are.” 

“I told you,” she said, “this is stage one of my evil plan.”

They stopped in front of the TARDIS and the Doctor reached into his pocket for the key. As he fumbled among loose change and other detritus he looked at Missy and said, “Thank you for a surprisingly pleasant evening.”

She looked up at him expectantly. “Aren't you going to kiss me on your doorstep?” she asked.

The question surprised him, though upon reflection it probably shouldn't have. “I wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong idea,” he said.

“What wrong idea?”

“That we're,” he gestured between them, “some sort of item.” 

“It's only kissing,” she said, “it's not a legally-binding commitment.” 

He hesitated for just a moment, which was enough time for Missy to push him against the TARDIS and kiss him. He didn't mind, though. It was quite pleasant, really.

 

He woke to a headache and the sound of a soprano.

Someone was singing a mangled version of _Un bel dì_ from Madame Butterfly with new and somewhat obscene lyrics. He opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. He groaned and covered his eyes with his left arm even as the TARDIS obligingly dimmed the lights. The singing continued.

Finally he managed to keep his eyes open long enough to get out of bed and make his way to the en suite bathroom. Without knocking he opened the door and leaned against the frame. 

“New rule – no opera before two o'clock in the afternoon.”

Missy stopped singing. “It's not my fault if you're hungover. I haven't been able to hit these notes since I was twelve years old, you know,” she added. She was reclining in a bath full of bubbles, apparently quite relaxed.

“You missed about half of them,” he told her.

Missy reached among the bubbles and produced a rubber duck. “Have you named this yet?”

“Leave the duck alone.”

She placed it back in the water and leaned back against the side of the bathtub. “If you're making breakfast I'd like bacon and eggs.”

He shook his head. “Come back to bed,” he suggested.

“That would be a waste of a good bath,” she said primly.

“So have another. It's not like there's a shortage of water.” 

Missy tilted her head as if in deep thought, then lifted her leg from the water, bath plug dangling from its chain between her toes. “Alright, if you insist. Hand me a towel.”

 

Three days later, in the kitchen, Missy announced her intention to leave.

“Well,” she said, “this has been quite delightful but I do have things to be getting back to.”

The Doctor stopped buttering his toast and looked at her. “Things?”

“Schemes. Evil-in-progress. That sort of thing.” She took two cups off the drying rack and placed them on the counter-top.

“I'm sure your plans can wait for a while longer,” he said, returning his attention to the toast. “And if they can't we have a time-machine so you can go back to when they were still fresh.” 

“Desperate for me to stay? That's very flattering, I must say.” She switched the kettle on and dropped a teabag into each cup.

“So why not stay? We can travel together, at least for a while.”

“Tempting,” she said, drumming her fingers on the counter as she waited for the water in kettle to boil.

The Doctor abandoned his toast in favour of his attempts at persuasion. “Look,” he said, “you haven't done anything evil for days.”

“How would you know? I could have blown up a dozen planets while you were lying shag-dazed in bed.”

“But you didn't.”

“No,” she admitted, “I didn't.” The kettle clicked off and she poured hot water into the cups. “Don't think you've turned me good, because you haven't. I was just distracted for a while.” She handed him a cup of tea. “Don't go getting any silly ideas about healing me with love.”

“The thought hadn't even occurred to me,” he lied.

“Good,” she said, stepping forwards and placing a quick kiss on his cheek before picking up her own tea.

 

He didn't see her for six months after that.

He didn't mind, he was used to being alone most of the time anyway, and he didn't always like the things she did to get his attention. 

If he allowed himself to think about it, he hoped he'd managed to make some sort of connection that might make things a bit easier next time.

He shook his head and silently mocked himself for being so naïve. 'Easier' with Missy just meant less appallingly awful for innocent bystanders.

The TARDIS suddenly stalled in mid-flight, bounced off the 18th century, and changed direction completely. Surprised, he moved to check on the systems and found himself locked out of the controls. 

“What are you playing at, Old Girl?” he asked the air. No matter what he tried to do the TARDIS remained in flight to some unknown destination, possibly under external control.

The Doctor took a calming breath and tried to focus. The odds of anyone being able to control the TARDIS from outside were vanishingly small. Only a handful of species had ever been that powerful and most of them had gone extinct or otherwise left the universe long ago. He considered the possibilities and didn't like any of the ideas that suggested themselves.

The Doctor didn't like being dragged off course by unknown forces. It almost never ended well. 

The time-rotor slowed to a halt as the familiar materialisation noise kicked in. The ship had landed, but who knew where or when. Cautiously he turned around as something scratched at the exterior.

The doors swung open and Missy stepped into the TARDIS carrying an umbrella and a bulging holdall. She was also carrying quite a bit of extra weight in worryingly specific places. The Doctor didn't bother trying not to stare.

She held up a hand to stop him talking. “Before you say anything I had no idea this was going to happen.”

“But...” He stepped across the room towards her. “How did you even manage that?” he asked, gesturing at her abdomen. 

Missy rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “When two Time Lords love each other very much -” she began.

“But we were being careful!” he protested.

Missy shrugged. “Then your guess is as good as mine.” She dropped her bag onto the floor, handed the Doctor her umbrella, and sat down on the crash-seat with a small sigh. 

He put the umbrella down next to her bag. “Have you been to see a doctor?”

She looked at him pointedly.

He shook his head. “I mean a real doctor, one with a proper medical degree.”

“Several,” she said. “I only killed the first one,” she added, “I was actually quite polite to them after I'd had some time to get used to the idea.” She patted her stomach. “Apparently it's a healthy baby boy with all the expected limbs and so on. They gave me a picture but honestly it made him look like a potato so I threw it away.”

The Doctor ran his hands through his hair. “How am I supposed to feel about this?” he asked.

“What emotions are you experiencing at the moment?”

“I think all of them.” He took a step back so that he could lean on the edge of the console. “What about you?”

“Disappointment. I thought you were made of sterner stuff than this.”

“Missy, you're going to have a baby.”

“Yes, I know.” She lifted her chin a little. “I think I'll be quite good at it. I was a good father, and being a mother is more or less the same, I'd imagine.”

“You weren't evil then,” the Doctor pointed out. “You were a productive member of society who didn't kill people for fun.”

She shook her head dismissively. “You always have to bring it back to that, don't you?”

“It's an important point,” he insisted. 

“Well,” she said reasonably, “I'll raise him to be evil and you raise him to be good and we'll see who wins.”

“No.”

“No? Are you shirking your parental responsibilities?”

“I'm saying that I won't let you try to raise an evil baby. I happen to think that an important part of parenthood is making sure that your child doesn't turn out evil.”

“I'm glad you're taking such an interest.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I'm don't want to argue with you, I'm tired. All this gestating really takes it out of you.”

 

He knocked on the door of his bedroom and waited for a response.

“You don't need to knock,” she called.

He opened the door and looked into the room. “I thought you'd want your own space,” he said.

“It's a bit late for that now,” she said, sitting up in bed with her hair around her shoulders. She patted the other side of the bed and signalled for him to join her. “I've decided to let you name him,” she said, generously. 

He settled down next to her. “Really?”

“Don't sound so surprised. I do value your opinions. Mostly.”

“I'll try not to let you down.”

“Good.” She went silent for a moment and then said, “We'll have to keep him safe. Neither of us has an ideal lifestyle for parenthood.”

“I'm not getting a mortgage,” said the Doctor automatically.

“I don't want one either, but we can't be selfish about this.”

He rubbed his face with his hand. “I still can't believe this is actually happening.”

Missy nodded and a faint smile appeared on her lips. “We're going to be a family,” she said. “Don't worry, everything's going to go according to plan.” She touched his hand. “Trust me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor gets a job and an old friend pops round for a visit.

“Welcome to the Apollo Coffee House, how can I help you today?” The Doctor's fake cheery smile didn't slip when he looked up and saw who he was talking to.

Kate Stewart held up her phone. “Can I take a photo?” she asked, apparently trying not to laugh.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, innocently.

“Who doesn't want a photo of an alien?”

The Doctor glanced around to see if anyone had overheard and then leaned across the counter. “I'm not an alien,” he said, “I'm a perfectly normal human being.” 

Kate nodded and put her phone back into her coat pocket. “Yes, the reports said you were taking the role very seriously.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. Would you perhaps like to buy some coffee?” he added pointedly.

“Doctor -”

“My name is John,” he said, pointing to his name-badge. “I'm John and I work in a coffee shop. I'm not a doctor and I certainly don't know anything about aliens.”

“I really hope you haven't lost your memory again,” said Kate. 

“My memory's fine!” he protested. He was beginning to doubt, however, that lying was going to be enough to dissuade her. She was as stubborn as her father with the added annoyance of being really, really clever as well. He sighed and called over to his co-worker at the other end of the counter. “Polly! I need to take a quick break, can you cover for me? It won't take long.” When she nodded he removed his apron and logged out of the till. 

He met Kate at a table by the window and said, “What's the emergency?”

“There isn't one, yet.” 

“Oh, so you're just spying on me?”

“I'm keeping an eye on our pool of resources,” she said.

“You mean spying.”

“If I was spying on you then you wouldn't even know about it,” she said with just a hint of professional pride.

“I probably would, you know, I'm very observant.” He looked out of the window at a pigeon eating crumbs off the pavement outside. “I've retired,” he added when he returned his attention to Kate.

“Nobody retires from UNIT,” she told him. “I've had ninety year old grannies wheeled in from care homes to work for us.”

“I,” said the Doctor, “am not a ninety year old granny. So why are you here?”

“I just wanted to see if it was true that you're pretending to be human now. And I'd like to ask why.”

The Doctor considered his options. There was no way in Hell that Kate Stewart would approve of his current living-arrangements, so it was probably best to be as vague as possible. 

“I'm looking after something,” he said, truthfully. “Something very precious. I needed to be somewhere safe and it turns out that 'all of time and space' is not on average a very safe place to live. So I had to pick a planet, and I've always liked Earth so why not?”

“What is it that you're looking after?”

He looked down at his hands. “I'd rather not say.”

Suddenly Kate smiled. “Has it finally happened?”

“Has what finally happened?” asked the Doctor, confused.

“You've found someone you want to settle down with.”

“I... might have?” he ventured cautiously.

She sat back in her seat. “I can't say I'm exactly _pleased_ if it means you're going into retirement, but it's certainly... something. You know,” she said, leaning forwards conspiratorially, “we have a betting pool at HQ on whether you actually have a sexuality or not.”

“That's...”

“Creepy and invasive, I know. We shouldn't be taking such an interest in the private lives of our former staff.”

The Doctor nodded, then asked “What did you put your money on?”

“That would be telling,” said Kate.

“I had a bet with Sergeant Benton that your father slept in his uniform,” he admitted. 

“He didn't.”

“I know, and that's a pound note I'm never going to see again.”

“You seriously thought he slept in his uniform?” she asked, amused.

“He could have,” the Doctor insisted. “You can never tell with the military.”

“So who's the lucky girl, or is it the lucky boy?”

“What is it with humans and gossip? Is it genetic? When you're in the womb do you wonder what the kidneys are up to?”

Kate held up her hands in a mock surrender. “Okay, fine, you don't want to tell me.”

“I just want to be left in peace, that's all. I don't want UNIT turning up and trampling all over my garden. And as for Torchwood -”

“Oh, believe me, we have a long history of not telling Torchwood what day of the week it is.”

“Good.” He looked across the cafe and saw a queue building and Polly trying to summon him. “I'm going back to work,” he said, standing. “No offence, but I hope I don't see you again.”

“Understood.”

 

He didn't tell Missy about the encounter, having decided on the journey home that it wasn't worth the potential trouble. She had a long-standing grudge against them for helping foil her plans repeatedly in the 1970s. Sometimes it was best just to not say anything.

Missy met him at the front door, their son in her arms. “Brax threw up again,” she said, “I put some paper towels on it, so that you know where it is.”

“Is he alright now?” he asked, looking at the baby with some concern. 

“Don't fuss,” said Missy. “Anyway, you'd better clean it up before it stains the carpet.”

“You know,” he said tiredly, “we really need to have another talk about who does what in this household. Perhaps we could share some of the vomit-related tasks, for instance.” He took his coat off and hung it by the door. 

“Hey, I do plenty,” she retorted. “You don't do any of the breastfeeding.”

“Missy, I don't have breasts.”

“Oh, that excuse again.” She dropped the subject when Brax yawned. “It's time for his nap.”

The Doctor followed her into the nursery and watched as she settled Brax into his crib. He had to admit that she was taking to motherhood pretty well. As far as he knew the 'Days Since Missy Killed Anyone' number was still steadily rising, and she seemed to genuinely care for their son. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said.

“Like what?” he asked, snapped back to reality by her voice.

“Affectionately. It's twee and annoying.”

“What would you prefer?” he asked.

“To be gazed upon with mixture of awe and desire, moderated by a healthy amount of fear. That's all I ask, it isn't much.” 

The Doctor did his best to do as she asked, and Missy smiled at the effort. She stepped into his personal space, touched his chest lightly between his hearts. She fluttered her eyelashes a bit and parted her lips slowly. 

“Get that puke cleaned up,” she said, before turning away.

 

The next morning the doorbell rang as the Doctor was getting ready to leave for work. He opened the door and then slammed it shut immediately.

“Who is it?” asked Missy, wandering into the hallway with Brax in her arms.

“It's just a wrong number,” he said, rather frantically, placing himself between her and the door. “I'll deal with it.”

The doorbell rang again. And again. Finally Kate Stewart shouted through the letterbox. “Doctor, we need you.”

Missy's eyes widened. “Is that your soldier friend's brat? How does she know where we live?”

“I don't know,” he said, truthfully. “Just stay out of the way and I'll get rid of her.”

Missy nodded and went into the living-room. The Doctor opened the front door when he was certain she was out of sight.

“Doctor, we've got -” Kate stopped talking, staring at something behind him. He didn't have to turn to know that Missy had reappeared in the hallway.

Kate's phone was in her hand before the Doctor could begin to reassure her. 

Missy raised her eyebrows. “Do you really think you could summon help before I killed this child?”

“Missy -” the Doctor began.

“Shut up,” she said without looking at him. “Go on,” she said to Kate, “I'll race you.”

The two women stared at each other, neither trusting the other enough to so much as blink.

“Oh,” said Missy, “that's right, I've killed an awful lot of people in my time, and this poor baby is only one person. So, really, it's a small price to pay to have me arrested, isn't it?”

Kate hesitated and Missy pressed on. “Are you a parent, Ms Stewart?” She held out her hand. “Give me the phone,” she said firmly.

Kate handed it over without a word. Missy took it and slipped it into a pocket in her skirt. “That wasn't so difficult, was it?” She turned her attention to the child in her arms. “Don't worry, dearest, I wouldn't harm a hair on your head. I was just making a point to the nasty woman.” With that she disappeared into the living-room again.

The Doctor looked at Kate. “I wish I could say that this isn't what it looks like,” he said. He held the door open for her. “I suppose you might as well come in.”

 

The Doctor sat on the sofa next to Kate, deliberately placing himself between her and Missy in her favourite armchair.

Finally Missy broke the silence. “I just want to say that I feel like I'm being judged.”

The Doctor's hearts sank. “Missy, shut up.”

“Is that any way to speak to the mother of your child?” she demanded. She looked at Kate. “We met up on Pluto and embarked on a long weekend of sexual adventure. Brax here is the result of those exploits.”

“I was going to break it to you gently,” said the Doctor, not very helpfully.

Kate looked nauseous for a few moments before she shook her head as if to clear it. “I'm not here to pry into your personal life, Doctor, I'm here because we need your help.”

“I told you, I don't do that stuff any more.”

She pressed on anyway. “Jodrell Bank picked up what looks like an alien fleet heading for Earth. They're about...” she checked her watch, “six hours away.”

“They might be friendly,” said the Doctor.

“And they might not be.”

“I'm sure you can deal with a few probably-friendly aliens without my help,” he said. “I was hardly on Earth in the 1990s, what did you do then?”

She ignored the question. “Should I point out that if anything happens to the Earth then you and your... family... would be in danger as well?”

“We've got a TARDIS,” said Missy. “So we'd just leave the planet. The rest of you would probably die though, that's true.” She tickled Brax under his chin and smiled at him adoringly. 

“I had to try,” said Kate, moving to stand. 

“Yes, yes, we understand,” said Missy without looking at her. “Off you go back to your homoerotic wargames.”

The Doctor followed Kate to the front door, trying to think of a way to apologise without committing to actually helping her. He was drawing a blank on that.

“I'm sorry about Missy,” he tried.

“It's like a euphemism,” said Kate. “'Missy,' a name you can call her without having to say 'Master' and think of all the terrible things that she's done.”

“It's not like that,” said the Doctor. “I always see her past.”

“Just because she's a woman -”

“And it's not just because she's a woman,” he said, tiredly.

“Then you've always loved her.” Kate looked betrayed, like a child discovering that Santa Claus was a murderer all along. “I never thought I'd say this, but for once I'm glad my father is dead.”

“Don't say that.”

“It's true.” She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “I won't come here again. She just... If you or the baby need anything, then you know where we are.”

“What about Missy?”

“To Hell with Missy.”

 

 

“That went well.”

“Don't start,” said the Doctor. 

“If she bothers us again can I kill her? I haven't killed anyone in ages, I've got quite the craving.”

“I'm already late for work,” he said, ignoring her. “I'll see you when I get back.”

Missy looked at him with a strange expression on her face. “If she could find us, then anyone can.”

“Nobody even knows we're here,” he reminded her.

“Are you sure about that?”

“About as sure as I can be, yes.” He was finding it hard to look at her. “Don't worry,” he said, “we can talk it over tonight.”

Missy nodded and he left without saying goodbye.

 

The house was empty when he returned later that evening, which didn't worry him immediately. She had probably gone out to the shops for some milk. 

It was a full half hour before he found the note stuck to the fridge with a line of magnetic poetry, another thirty-seven seconds before he made it to the TARDIS to scan the surrounding area. 

According to the scanner he was the only Time Lord on the planet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with added Daleks!

The autumn was turning into winter when Martha Jones appeared on his doorstep, wrapped up warm against the weather. 

“I heard you don't do hugs,” she said.

“Is that the word on the street?”

She nodded. “Grumpy, Scottish, doesn't do hugs.”

The Doctor counted on his fingers. “Sober, Gallifreyan, definitely hugs Martha Jones.”

She smiled and accepted the embrace. “I'm sorry I couldn't get here earlier,” she said.

“Don't worry about it.” He ushered her into the warmth of the house. “How's Mickey?”

“He's good, he said to say hi.” Martha started removing some of her outer layers of clothing. 

“I'll put the kettle on. Sitting-room's through there.”

“Thanks.”

 

They caught up over tea and scones, and it was some time before Martha steered the conversation towards Missy.

“You haven't heard from her?”

“No. I don't really expect to. She'll turn up one day unannounced and carry on like nothing happened. That's just what she does.”

He could see pity in her eyes. “Doctor, it's been over a year.”

“So? A year's nothing. She said she'd come back, I believe her.”

“And how do you know she wasn't lying?”

“You don't want her to come back,” he accused.

Martha didn't bother to deny it. “I'd be crazy if I did.”

“We were here for months and she didn't hurt a fly.”

“So a year's nothing but a few months of good behaviour prove that the Master has changed?” 

The Doctor shrugged, unable to argue the point. Martha didn't push it, for which he was absurdly grateful. 

“I don't want her back,” she said, “but that doesn't mean I don't want you to see your son again. If there was anything I could do to help you with that, I would do it.”

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it completely. 

“You don't think maybe that was the point? To give you something important and then take it away to hurt you?”

He really didn't know. “I don't think so. That's not really her style.”

Martha paused and then said, “I told Mickey you were in love with the Master, but he thought I was winding him up. Jack didn't want to talk about it at all.”

This had obviously been worrying away at her, so he let her continue.

“It bothered me, you know, that you thought you could forgive him when it wasn't even your planet. I never told you this, but it's one of the reasons I left. I'd spent all that time thinking you just needed the love of a good woman, and then I saw you with him and I knew that nothing could fix you.”

“That's...”

“Really depressing, yeah. Sorry.”

 

The house seemed extra quiet when Martha had left. The Doctor realised that it had been months since anyone else had visited. Not that he needed the company, but he felt fairly sure UNIT would tell any of his friends where he was, had they thought to ask. 

Winter turned to spring, and the Doctor saved the planet again. It wasn't especially difficult, it filled an afternoon and no more. He wondered if he was being rehabilitated, being asked to help out when he probably wasn't even needed. He pushed that thought aside.

Another year passed, just the blink of an eye on the cosmic scale. He quit his job at the coffee shop, spent his days reading library books and watching reality TV. He slept more than he usually did. Every once in a while he stopped someone destroying the Earth.

At the bottom of the garden weeds grew over the TARDIS. Sometimes the Doctor looked out of the kitchen window and wondered where the tall blue box had come from. It seemed like it had been in that garden forever, empty and alone.

 

“Hi, Honey, I'm home! Did you miss me?”

At first he was sure it was just another dream, until he touched her cheek and found that she was solid. 

“Missy,” he breathed.

“I hope you haven't taken up with a younger woman, I'd be really annoyed about that.” She pushed her son forwards in front of her. “Say hello to your father, dear.”

Traditionally, Time Lord children didn't speak until they had something interesting to say. It was something the Doctor had always disapproved of, but it seemed that Missy had stuck to the tradition in his absence.

“Don't mind him, he's just shy,” she said, even as the boy stared up at his father with an expression of serene self-confidence.

“Where have you been?” asked the Doctor. 

“Around,” she said, vaguely. “I didn't feel safe here. So I thought, you know, I should take Brax away until he was at least old enough to run away from things.”

The boy looked slightly small for his age but alert to his surroundings. He had dark hair, a small mouth, and his mother's eyes. 

“Does he speak?” asked the Doctor, who was starting to wonder. 

Missy nudged her son. “Say something,” she prompted.

“I don't know what to say,” he muttered.

“See? He's got a good vocabulary, I tell him a bedtime story every night.”

“What's your favourite?” asked the Doctor. “Jack and the Beanstalk? Cinderella?”

“Oh, I don't tell him _those_ ,” said Missy. “I tell him proper stories, things that actually happened. I don't want to fill his mind with lies and nonsense. You like the one with the Axons, don't you, dear?”

“And Sea Devils,” Brax offered.

“Sometimes you're the villain in these stories,” said Missy apologetically. 

The Doctor looked down at Brax, who appeared to be studying him carefully. “Maybe I should tell the bedtime stories from now on.”

“It's not my fault if we've spent so much time working against each other,” she said.

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest and then changed his mind. “We can discuss that later,” he said.

Missy nodded. “Yes, let's not spoil the happy reunion.” 

 

Later, with Brax asleep in the formerly-spare room, the Doctor broached the subject of the future.

“Are you staying?” he asked, getting straight to the point.

“If you can keep Brax safe,” she said. “This is a dangerous planet, you know.”

“I promise I'll do whatever it takes to keep you and Brax safe.”

Missy nodded, apparently satisfied by this. “Good. Perhaps I shouldn't have run off like that. I know you'll do your best for us.” 

“Let's just move on from here,” he said.

Missy waited for a moment and then said, “Aren't you going to kiss me?”

So he did.

 

“Do we need this toaster?” the Doctor asked when Missy entered the kitchen. 

She looked at him with a perplexed expression. “Why?”

“I'm building a robot puppy for Brax,” he said. “I'm trying to use household objects so that he understands how easy it is to invent things.”

“A robot puppy? I hope it doesn't excrete anything.”

“Only love. Metaphorically,” he added, “I haven't devised a method of containing and storing love for later deployment.” He lifted the toaster. “So do we need this or can I use it?”

“Make the puppy,” she said with an indulgent smile. She followed him into the living-room where Brax sat on the floor amid a pile of Duplo bricks and crayons.

The Doctor sat the toaster down on the coffee table and looked around for the sonic screwdriver. It had fallen down the side of the sofa, and as he retrieved it he thought about how relaxed the atmosphere had been for the past few months. Missy was on her best behaviour, the house was calm, and Brax was even starting to speak without being prompted. It was quite disturbingly normal.

“Penny for them,” said Missy when he'd been quiet just a bit too long.

“I'm waiting for something to go wrong,” he realised out loud. 

“Like what?” she asked.

“I don't know. Doesn't this all seem too easy to you? I don't think anyone's tried to kill me since July.”

“Ah. I knew you'd get bored eventually.”

“I'm not bored,” he insisted, sitting on the sofa and beginning to disassemble the toaster. “I don't _want_ anything to go wrong, it just feels inevitable somehow.”

“Don't try to second-guess the universe, Doctor, you'll only hurt yourself.”

“Hmm,” he murmured non-committally. 

 

It was late in the autumn when Missy pointed out the obvious.

“You realise that we can't stay here forever, don't you?” 

The Doctor looked up from his crossword. “What?”

“We'll have to leave this planet at some point. Probably quite soon.”

“We're fine,” he said, “there's another five billion years left in that sun. Trust me, I checked.”

Missy shook her head. “I don't mean that. What about when Brax has to go to school?”

The Doctor looked at her blankly.

“He has two hearts, love, someone's bound to notice.”

“We can say it's a rare medical condition.”

“Or what if he gets sick and he needs to go to a hospital? They would realise that he's not human, and goodness knows what that would lead to.”

“You're right,” he said, putting the puzzle-book to one side. “I suppose I haven't let myself think too far ahead.”

“Then it's a good thing I'm here, isn't it? I spent a lot of time on Earth during your exile, I saw how xenophobic humans can be.”

“We can find somewhere else,” he said confidently. “If it comes to it we can just park the TARDIS in the vortex and live there. She wouldn't mind if it was for a good cause.”

“It's not your TARDIS I'm worried about. Brax needs to spend time with people his own age. He needs social interaction or he'll go strange.”

“He can interact with us,” he suggested.

“Doctor, we _are_ strange.”

“Exactly, and we had plenty of people to talk to when we were kids. He'll be fine.” He was about to tell her that she was over-thinking things, but then everything went black. 

 

The Doctor woke when Missy slapped him.

“Get up, you idiot!”

He blinked and looked around, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Where are we?”

“Dalek ship,” she told him. “The place reeked of hyperspace earlier, so I assume we're nowhere near Earth.”

The Doctor got to his feet. “Well, we can deal with that issue later. How's Brax?” He looked across the small room to where the boy sat on the floor eating something.

“I gave him a bar of chocolate,” she said. “I didn't want to worry him and he kept asking questions.”

“So you bribed him to keep quiet.”

“Yes,” she said, proudly. “It's been working so far.”

Part of the wall slid away and a Dalek glided into the room.

Without any apparent fear, Brax got up, went over to the Dalek and pressed his small hand against its casing.

The Doctor moved to stop him, but Missy caught his arm. “They won't hurt him,” she said, confidently. “He's much more valuable to them alive.”

Sure enough the Dalek simply moved away from the child and turned its eyestalk towards his parents. “FOLLOW,” it told them.

“Why do they have to speak in capslock?“ asked Missy. “It always gives me such a headache.”

The Doctor took Brax's hand and with Missy close behind stepped through the door after the Dalek. 

Missy looked around as they walked. “This is one of the new battle-cruisers, isn't it?” she asked casually. “I think I blew one of these up not too long ago. It's surprisingly easy to cause a critical failure in the engines.”

The Dalek didn't respond and Missy made a face at its back. It led them into an elevator and the Doctor did a few quick calculations to conclude that they were heading to the bridge of the ship. 

He thought over the alternatives as Missy spoke again. “I'm always saying we should go more places as a family, aren't I, Doctor? If I'd known we were coming here I'd have brought sandwiches and made a day of it.” She smiled down at Brax. “If you're a good boy I'll let you blow something up before we go home.”

Brax nodded seriously. It didn't seem to have occurred to him to be afraid of the situation. The Doctor wasn't sure if that was better or worse than if he had been terrified.

Finally they reached the bridge of the ship. The Dalek they were following glided off to a control panel, leaving them standing alone in the middle of the room. 

Through the large windows in front of them the Doctor saw a familiar planetary system growing slowly closer. They were approaching Skaro.

“Next time you blow up a planet,” said Missy quietly, “make sure you do a better job of it.”

“I did my best,” he replied.

There was a sudden rush of activity among the Daleks as they assembled themselves around the edges of the room. Then, with a sting of ozone, something began to materialise in the centre. 

Missy took Brax's other hand. “That's Davros,” she informed him. “He's practically your uncle.”

“On your side or mine?” asked the Doctor.

“Must be yours, he never sends me so much as a Christmas card.”

“Bring the child closer,” said Davros.

Another Dalek slid towards them, separating Brax from his parents and forcing the boy to move towards Davros. The Doctor grabbed Missy's arm to stop her doing anything rash.

“Don't be concerned,” Davros said, “the boy will remain unharmed to ensure your cooperation.” 

“Cooperation with what?” asked the Doctor.

“With anything I choose,” said Davros simply. “You will be given tasks to complete, to assist the Dalek cause. You will do as you are told. Do you understand these terms?” 

The Doctor and Missy glanced at each other and then nodded. 

“Good. Your first assignment is a simple one, for Time Lords. You will construct a stellar manipulation device, a means to alter the attributes of the stars.”

“Hang on,” said the Doctor, “what do you plan to do with it?”

“That is no concern of yours. The project will be completed within one week, then you will be given further work.” With that, Davros pressed a button on his chair and turned away.

More Daleks appeared, shooing the Doctor and Missy off the bridge and making them leave Brax behind. 

“He'll be fine,” the Doctor told Missy as they headed back to their cell.

“I know that. Frankly I trust the Daleks more than I trust you on this one.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, offended.

“It means you won't give the Daleks a super-weapon, you're too in love with the moral high ground. You know perfectly well that one life can't be chosen over millions. So you'll disobey and our son will get killed.” 

“I promised I'd do anything for you,” he reminded her. 

“Within limits.”

“Did I say that?” he demanded. “Did I ever put limitations on what I was willing to do to keep him safe?”

“No,” she admitted. 

“We'll get out of this and then we'll see about fixing any damage that we cause. I'm fairly sure we can do anything, you and me together.”

Missy accepted this with a silent nod. She seemed happier now that the issue had been discussed, and the Doctor felt considerably worse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy ending for at least some of the characters!

“And then,” said Missy quietly, “Mummy realised that she'd accidentally destroyed a large portion of the known universe.” She gave a mock gasp. “You can imagine how silly she felt about that.” 

Brax yawned and blinked slowly.

“I think someone's ready to sleep,” she said with a faint smile. She tucked the blanket in around him and reached to turn off the bedside lamp.

The door opened behind her as she switched the light off. “Just a minute,” she said. She leaned over her son and kissed his forehead. “See you in the morning, dear one.”

She turned and stood. “What is it, Steve?” she asked tiredly.

The Dalek rolled backwards to give her space as she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. “THE UPGRADE PATCH HAS BEEN CHECKED AND APPLIED. YOUR WORK IS ACCEPTABLE.”

“Gosh, thanks, I'm touched. Go and ask the Doctor if he wants some tea, will you? And tell him that if he's not in bed by midnight he'll have to sleep on the sofa.”

She watched the Dalek leave and rubbed her eyes with her hands. 

 

The Doctor looked up from his work as the Dalek they'd named Steve entered the workshop. 

“WILL YOU REQUIRE REFRESHMENT?” it asked.

“No, I'm almost done here.” He sat the sonic screwdriver down on the desk. “Did she threaten me with the sofa again?”

“YOUR MATE COMMUNICATED THAT ULTIMATUM,” said Steve.

The Doctor nodded. “Sleeping on a Dalek-built sofa isn't fun. What about you, Steve? Are you married? Got any kids?”

“I AM A DALEK,” said Steve. 

“Which means you have no sense of humour, I know.” The Doctor picked the screwdriver up again and got to work on some last bits of wiring. “I should be finished this by the end of the week,” he said. “Let Davros know, will you?” 

Steve left and the Doctor tried to concentrate on his work. It was another weapon, of course, but the memory of his last attempt to disobey was still fresh and the nightmares hadn't yet started to fade. He'd do what he had to, there just wasn't an acceptable alternative.

Over the past year he'd somehow managed to get used to his new circumstances. In a twisted way the Daleks treated them extremely well. The cottage they lived in had been built to Missy's specifications and sometimes he could think of Steve as some sort of weird butler.

 

The light was off when he reached the bedroom, so he undressed quietly and slipped under the covers in the dark.

“You're late,” whispered Missy. She shifted until she was pressed against him and he put an arm round her without thinking about it. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“It's okay,” she said. “I wasn't really asleep yet.”

“Aren't you tired?”

“I'm always tired. I was just thinking.” 

“What about?”

“I can't say, I don't know who's listening.”

These whispered conversations at night were the only time they really had to themselves, and they couldn't be sure that even these weren't monitored somehow. 

“The last time you tried anything they destroyed a constellation,” he reminded her. “I know you don't care about that, but I do.”

“Thinking doesn't mean I'm actually going to do something. I think about burning this planet to ashes every day and it's still here.” She yawned. “It's just an idle fantasy.” 

“Get some sleep,” he told her. 

She made a quiet little noise of agreement and then lapsed into silence. The Doctor closed his eyes and tried not to think about killing Daleks.

 

“Have I ever told you that I hate this place?” 

Steve's eyestalk swivelled round to look at her.

“I don't like working for the Daleks. It's not that I have moral objections, I just don't like being told what to do.”

“I think you might have mentioned that once or twice,” said the Doctor, who was eating a bowl of something that didn't taste of cornflakes.

“I just wanted to remind everyone,” she said. She smiled at Brax. “Drink your orange juice, dear, it's good for you.”

“It's not really orange juice,” said Brax. “It's just recycled sugars and proteins.” He'd become more talkative on Skaro, which the Doctor hoped wasn't a bad sign.

“Drink it anyway,” she said. 

“THE SCHEDULED DATA UPGRADE IS REQUIRED TODAY,” said Steve. 

“Don't worry,” said Missy, “It's almost done. And I have a good feeling about it, it's been going really well.”

Steve turned to the Doctor. “TESTING HAS BEGUN ON THE NEW WEAPONS. PRELIMINARY RESULTS ARE SATISFACTORY.”

“That's nice,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest. 

It was the same old start to the day, and it never got any better.

 

That evening he was playing cards with Brax when Missy called from the kitchen. “Steve, I need to borrow you.”

The Dalek in the corner of the room glided forwards. “FOR WHAT PURPOSE?”

“The sink's blocked,” she said, appearing in the doorway, “and you have a plunger for a hand.”

Steve's eyestalk dipped as though examining the device in question. 

“I'm serious,” said Missy. “This is the one thing your species should be good at.”

Steve went into the kitchen and the Doctor went back to the card game. He was building quite a good hand when he heard the Dalek scream. Jumping up he ran into the kitchen to find Missy with her hand inside Steve's open casing.

“I'm trying to find his transmat module before reinforcements arrive,” she said quickly. “Get Brax.”

“Are you insane?”

“Yes, but I'm also very clever, now do as you're told.”

Brax appeared at his side before he could move. “What's happening?”

“We're escaping,” said Missy.

The front door opened and another Dalek entered the house. “STAY WHERE YOU ARE. DO NOT MOVE.”

Missy pulled her arm out of Steve, something metallic and glistening in her hand. “Hey,” she said to the new Dalek, “I need another two transmat modules, can you get them for me?”

The Dalek rolled towards her. “YOU WILL CEASE THIS INSURRECTION.”

Missy nodded to the Doctor. “Watch this, you'll like it.” She looked straight at the Dalek and said, “I am the Mistress and you will obey me.”

The Dalek's eye dilated and contracted. It stood silent for an agonising moment before it finally spoke. “I OBEY.”

The Doctor stared at the scene before him. “You can't hypnotise Daleks! Nobody can do that!” he protested.

“It's not hypnosis, it's exploiting a design flaw.”

“What design flaw?”

“Someone – I couldn't possibly say who – built a backdoor into the system, triggered by a certain phrase said by a certain person.” She watched as the second Dalek plugged itself into the wall and requested the transmat units. They materialised on the kitchen table as Missy took Brax by the hand. 

“Give me the sonic screwdriver,” she said, holding out a hand. The Doctor gave it to her, still not over the shock of what was happening. 

“Right,” she said, handing them each a transmat module, “off we go!”

“Wait,” said the Doctor, “I want Steve's data-core.”

“Well, hurry up, we haven't got all day.”

He pulled the data-core from the dying Dalek and then took Brax's other hand. “Okay, we're good to go.”

 

They materialised in a large metal room with a huge window on one side overlooking the planet below.

“Where are we?” 

“It's an old communications satellite,” said Missy. “I moved it here a few days ago. It uses an older method for shielding, it should be safe enough for now.”

“We'll need a ship,” said the Doctor, crossing the room to a control panel. 

“Already thought of that,” said Missy. “One should be docking with us in a couple of minutes. I put it on the flight schedule as a refuelling stop.” She moved to his side. “What are you doing?”

“I need to know what they've done with what we gave them,” he said. “There should be enough information in here,” he said, connecting Steve's data-core to a monitor.

“Are you sure you want to know?” asked Missy. “You hate yourself enough as it is.”

“I'm learning to express my feelings more productively,” he said. 

Missy smiled. “I'm glad to hear it.”

 

It could only be illusion, but as Missy watched the planet burn she was quite sure that the room was getting warmer. She undid the collar button on her blouse and fanned herself with her spare hand. From a safe orbit the view was magnificent – continents seemed to melt together and the ice caps were almost gone now, being eaten away rapidly by oceans full of fire. 

“You don't want to miss this,” she told her son, “it's never the same when you watch the repeats later on.” 

Brax held his mother's hand and stared out through the observation window in silence. 

Missy gestured at the destruction before them. “This is what happens to people who make Time Lords angry. You see? No more Davros, no more Skaro, no more nightmares.”

Brax looked up at his mother. “But there are other Daleks,” he said. “They're all over the place, billions of them.”

Missy stroked his hair gently. “Don't worry, my darling, they won't bother us again.” She smiled. “Daddy's gone a-hunting.”


End file.
